The Q Cup - A new years event
by cuddlefishprince
Summary: (Fanfic comission work) How will the agend and the quartermaster spend their first new years eve? Where did Q get his cup from?


Another comission I wrote during new years eve... You can see it as a sequel of 'Teaching you' or not.

* * *

A heavy, pitch black leather bag, thrown on the kitchen table.  
Shiny black shoes, kicked off.  
"I'm home.", a voice echoed through the apartment.  
He threw his jacket to the wardrobe and walked into the living room, following a trail of wet footprints.  
"Where have you been?", someone asks from the kitchen, followed by the sound of clattering dishes.  
"I could ask you the same."

Bond leaned into the kitchen door, observing what his flat-mate ruined this time.  
"I wanted to cook something tonight.", Q mumbled, staring at the broken dishes in the kitchen sink, "and what is your excuse?"  
"My excuse?!", James joked, laughing, "I've been working."  
He shuffled into the kitchen and helped Q to get rid off the broken plates and cups.  
"Then what is in the bag, James?"

James paused for a second. It has been a long time since he got called that. He wasn't uncomfortable about it, not at all. Not if it came from Q.  
They had such a hard time in the beginning, not able to stand the other ones habits. First it were the sleeping habits, then Bond got upset about Q wearing his shoes inside. One week, when the internet connection failed, Q spent his nights at the MI6.  
But they slowly got together, not as friends or flatmates, but as something more...

"Damn it."  
Qs swearing woke Bond up from his daydream. He looked down to the kitchen sink, now covered by a small trail of blood. The agend grabbed a tea towel and wrapped it around the bleeding hand of his quartermaster.  
"That was my last cup.", he murmured half angry half in tears.  
"Don't worry about it, I will get you a new one."  
Q buried his head in Bonds body, pulling him down to the kitchen floor with his weight.  
"But you already bought me that one...", he mumbled.  
007 stroke through the boys wavy, dark hair.  
There they were, lying, cuddling, on the cold kitchen floor. The hurt, sobbing Q and the agend.  
After a while, Bond sat up.  
"We can go out, if you want to.", Bond suggested, even though he already knew the answer.  
"Can we order something?"  
The blonde one nodded and stood up.  
"Wait a second, I'll bandage that."  
He went to the bathroom and came back with a small plaster, to attach it to Qs small wound.  
"I am sorry.", he said, "That I broke your cup..."

Bond sighed and helped him up.  
"Chinese food?"  
Q nodded. He went to the living room, grabbed his laptop and waited for Bond to get the order done.  
Meanwhile he sunk into the world of codes and numbers, where he could stay for ages. But not tonight. The broken cup was still on his mind, so he spaced out.  
James came back soon, the food arrived, they ate silently, the TV was the only noise in the apartment. Some new years shows were on. Q pretended to watch it concentrated. He didn't expect their first new years eve to be like that. He thought they would drink, share some stories or at least talk about the new agends at the MI6.

"I'll take out the trash."  
"Mhm."

Bond went out with two big, white plastic bags. Q couldn't say how long he was out there, but the year was almost over.

When James came back, he held a small package in his hand. He sat down next to the quartermaster and shut the televisions volume down.  
"I got something for you.", he said, "I hope you'll like it."  
It was a silver package, easy to open. And it was heavy. Too heavy for such a small thing.  
"What is it?"  
"Open it."

Curiosity took over the quartermaster and he ripped it open. Even with the hurt hand. The paper released something made of white porcellain. A smooth surface with a black print on it. "Q"  
"A new cup!", Q almost shouted out, hugging the agend. Pushing him over on the couch.  
Then, their lips met. It seemed like an accident, but it happened on purpose. Lips, melting. Sucking on each other. And even though both of them smiled a little.

Meanwhile the countdown on the television ran out slowly. And the fireworks above London lit their new years kiss in every single colour. Maybe the kiss was a small firework itself.

"Happy New Year, James!"


End file.
